He who to thwart God’s system[12] tries,
Bids mountains sink, and vallies rise;180
Slavery, subjection, what you will,
Has ever been, and will be still:
Trust me, that in this world of woe
Mankind must different burthens know;
Each bear his own, th’ Apostle spoke;185
And chiefly they who bear the yoke.
From wise subordination’s plan
Springs the chief happiness of man;
Yet from that source to numbers flow
Varieties of pain and woe;190
Look round this land of freedom, pray,
And all its lower ranks survey;
Bid the hard-working labourer speak,
What are his scanty gains a week?
All huddled in a smoaky shed,195
How are his wife and children fed?
Are not the poor in constant fear
Of the relentless Overseer?
London! Metropolis of bliss!
Ev’n there sad sights we cannot miss;200
Beggars at every corner stand,
With doleful look and trembling hand;
Hear the shrill piteous cry of sweep,
See wretches riddling an ash heap;
The streets some for old iron scrape,205
And scarce the crush of wheels escape;
Some share with dogs the half-eat bones,
From dunghills pick’d with weary groans.
Dear Cumberland, whose various powers210
Preserve thy life from languid hours,
Thou scholar, statesman, traveller, wit,
Who prose and verse alike canst hit;
Whose gay West-Indian on our stage,
Alone might check this stupid rage;215
Fastidious yet—O! condescend
To range with an advent’rous friend:
Together let us beat the rounds,
St. Giles’s ample blackguard bounds:
Try what th’ accurs’d Short’s Garden yields,220
His bludgeon where the Flash-man wields;
Where female votaries of sin,
With fetid rags and breath of gin,
Like antique statues stand in rows,
Fine fragments sure, but ne’er a nose.225
Let us with calmness ascertain
The liberty of Lewkner’s Lane,
And Cockpit-Alley—Stewart’s Rents,
Where the fleec’d drunkard oft repents.
With Bentley’s[13] critical acumen230
Explore the haunts of evil’s Numen;
And in the hundreds of Old Drury,
Descant de legibus Naturæ[14].
Let’s prowl the courts of Newton-Street,
Where infamy and murder meet;235
Where Carpmeal[15] must with caution tread,
Macmanus tremble for his head,
Jealous look sharp with all his eyes,
And Townshend apprehend surprise;
And having view’d the horrid maze,240
Let’s justify the Planter’s ways.
Lo then, in yonder fragrant isle
Where Nature ever seems to smile,
The cheerful gang[16]!—the negroes see
Perform the task of industry:
Ev’n at their labour hear them sing,245
While time flies quick on downy wing;
Finish’d the bus’ness of the day,
No human beings are more gay:
Of food, clothes, cleanly lodging sure,
Each has his property secure;250
Their wives and children are protected,
In sickness they are not neglected;
And when old age brings a release,
Their grateful days they end in peace.
But should our Wrongheads have their will,255
Should Parliament approve their bill,
Pernicious as th’ effect would be,
T’ abolish negro slavery,
Such partial freedom would be vain,
Since Love’s strong empire must remain.260
Venus, Czarina of the skies,
Despotick by her killing eyes,
Millions of slaves who don’t complain,
Confess her universal reign:
And Cupid too well-us’d to try265
His bow-string lash, and darts to ply,
Her little Driver still we find,
A wicked rogue, although he’s blind.
Bring me not maxims from the schools;
Experience now my conduct rules;270
O ———! trust thy lover true,
I must and will be slave to you.
Yet I must say—but pr’ythee smile,—
’Twas a hard trip to Paphos isle;
By your keen roving glances caught,275
And to a beauteous tyrant brought;
My head with giddiness turn’d round,
With strongest fetters I was bound;
I fancy from my frame and face,
You thought me of th’ Angola race[17]:280
You kept me long indeed, my dear,
Between the decks of hope and fear;
But this and all the seasoning o’er,
My blessings I enjoy the more.
Contented with my situation,285
I want but little regulation;
At intervals Chanson à boire
And good old port in my Code noire;
Nor care I when I’ve once begun,
How long I labour, in the sun290
Of your bright eyes!—which beam with joy,
Warm, cheer, enchant, but don’t destroy.